


miles to go

by 2manyboys



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Briefly Outsider POV, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Introspection, M/M, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 13:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2manyboys/pseuds/2manyboys
Summary: “Is this place special to you?”“If you found the letters, yes.” Nicky says, shutting the sink off and giving up on doing dishes. “In the sense that it was a site of reunion for us, which may as well make it sacred.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 36
Kudos: 205





	miles to go

“How did you know I was there?” He asks, passing the flask along to the next man around the fire without taking a sip. Whoever he is, he’s not wearing enough layers to be turning down the warmth of whiskey. They don’t press. 

“The bells on your horse. Pretty old-fashioned, truth be told, we expected someone much older.”

It’s not a good joke, but the man laughs hard enough that he curls forward and slaps the side of his thigh. He has dimples under his thick beard, laugh lines by his eyes, and snowflakes stuck in his long dark eyelashes. More than half the group around the fire is still looking at him with interest, this mysterious stranger traveling the opposite direction who had to be coaxed to sit with them a while. 

Then he says, in a voice so wistful it has them all leaning closer, “The bells were a gift from the love of my life. If they’re not on the horse when I make it home tonight, I’ll be in trouble.” 

The group’s laughter is, understandably, tinged with disappointment. He’s well and truly taken. More than that, though it’s hard to say what  _ more  _ could be. 

“Laugh at me if you like.” He continues, “We haven’t spent a single solstice apart since we met.” So saying, he peers up at the sky. It’s clear he won’t stay much longer, as cheerful as he was to hear their story. 

He’s told them a few stories too, every one outlandish and ending happy. That’s what has someone prompting, “Get in trouble a lot, do you?” 

“All the time.” He says, smile widening as he comes back to earth, “Usually together.”

This pronouncement evokes a few soft sighs from his audience. There’s something like satisfaction in the slant of his eyebrows then, like he wants them to go on their way and remember him as a man deeply devoted, if nothing else. He’s toeing the line of romantic and insufferable, sweet and boasting. 

Passionate, is what they’ll land on later, when they’re long past the woods. The deciding factor is the way he claps his hands together and stands, saying, “Thank you for your brief but excellent hospitality, my friends. I wish you a safe journey and hope you will wish me a swift one in return, for every moment stretches on endlessly until I reunite with the other half of my heart.” 

They’re universally sad to see him go without one more story, without any more details, but no one can protest after that. 

* * *

The farmhouse has a lit candle in every window. Joe stares at it so long without blinking that his eyes water and the perfect image of it goes blurry and dreamlike. He forces himself not to push the horse into a gallop and ride straight up to the front door. He has no need to rush and kneel and weep for love, not when he can follow the path, care for the creature that carries him down it, and know all the while that his love will hold him close at the end. Joe reminds himself that Nicky doesn’t need a scene. 

He forgets the bells again. Nicky comes out to the stable in slippers, blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and breathes such a deep sigh of relief when their eyes meet that Joe can see it in the air between them. It’s quiet in the way it can only be with snow falling. The look that passes between them is the oldest thing in the world. 

The first thing Nicky says is, “Are you hungry?”

Joe thinks he might weep after all. 

* * *

Eating one-handed is something of a chore, Nicky remembers from the last time he had to fake a broken arm, but he cannot bring himself to let go of Joe’s left hand and leave him to it. Joe doesn’t complain. He has a foot hooked around the back of Nicky’s ankle too, points of contact that are sure to multiply as the night goes on. 

“Did you tell them our names?”

“No, no. I distracted them with heavily redacted tales from São Paulo and Nice. They were good people, I hope they made it to the village and their own warm welcome.” 

“Hmm.” Nicky considers, “Are you?”

“Warm?” Joe flirts instinctively, “You tell me.”

Nicky scoots his chair closer, setting his free hand on Joe’s thigh. They got him out of his travel clothes and into dry, softer fabrics—he  _ is  _ warm—but Nicky still leaves his hand there. 

“The lake was frozen.” Joe adds, in between bites, just for something to say. 

Nicky nods, unsurprised. “The house too. It still needs work, I’ve been resting.”

“I liked the candles. And this stew, Nicolò, you’ve out done yourself.”

“I might have done more.” Nicky laughs, “We said it’s not an anniversary but…”

“My heart. All I want is to hold you.” Joe says, “Before you say you need to dust every room and bake a cake. I’ve been  _ dreaming _ of it Nicky, the warm skin of your stomach, the back of your neck.”

“Joe.” Nicky breathes, closing his eyes briefly. “Your voice is a balm for my soul. I heard the bells and I ached for you to say anything to me, anything.”

“Go blow out the candles and I’ll say whatever you like.”

Nicky nods, taking his palm off Joe’s thigh, releasing his hand. He doesn’t miss the way Joe shivers. 

* * *

It’s snowing again the next time they come to this old farmhouse, nearly a hundred years later. 

Joe steps through the front door, takes one look at the poorly repaired bannister on the staircase, and says, “We’ve been here before.” 

“Have we?” Nicky asks, gently nudging him out of the way, carrying in bags of groceries. He doesn’t wait for an answer, only pauses long enough to kick off his shoes before continuing on to find the kitchen.

“I thought Andy said Copley just finalized the sale under her false identity.” Nile follows up, squeezing past Joe in the hallway with her own bags. “Did you buy a house from yourselves?”

Joe sets his hand on the wall beside him, glancing up at the ceilings and around at the light filtering in through the windows. “I’m certain we’ve been here.” He whispers, then raises his voice, “Can you see the forest from the back?” 

“Yes.” Nicky calls back, significantly less awed by this coincidence because he’s focused on practicality, “Can you find the box and turn the power on please?”

“Okay, okay.” Joe agrees, leaving his and Nicky’s clothes and swords by the door. 

He walks into the kitchen afterward to find Nicky passing things for Nile to fit into the fridge. “Thank you Nile.” Nicky says, and, when he sees Joe, “Grazie, Yusuf.” 

Nicky doesn’t look up from what his hands are doing but he turns his face towards Joe, expecting a kiss. Still feeling slightly petulant, Joe only kisses the side of his nose. Nicky laughs, which makes Joe more annoyed. How is he supposed to stay mad, faced with that? 

“Perdonami se penso che sia... magico.” Joe grouses, thinking to keep Nile out of this petty little argument but not quite moderating his tone.

“Basta.” Nicky replies, deliberately mild, “Un modo per esserne sicuri c'è.”

Before Joe can ask what he means, Nile cuts in, “You  _ can _ talk about sex in front of me you know.” Her frustration melts into embarrassment when they both look at her in surprise, “Come on, you’re always flirting in Italian and anyway, I saw the stairs.” 

That makes Nicky laugh hard enough to snort, shaking his head and turning back to sorting through the groceries, “Ah, no. That would have been from a different sort of game; it gets boring after a while when you’re snowed in.” He gestures towards Joe with a brand new spatula, “Do not let him convince you to spar inside, or at least keep to one floor.”

Nile rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too as she shuts the fridge door and straightens up. “What were you saying then?”

“He says there is a way to be sure this is the same house, besides the bannister, which is evidence enough for me.” Joe translates. 

Nicky hums, turning to set his hand over Joe’s collarbone and look directly at him, “Go and check under the floorboard. If the letters are there I will happily celebrate this small magic with you.” 

Joe kisses him properly this time, though briefly, suddenly eager to take the knife from his boot and uncover treasure. He’s expecting Nile to follow him and she doesn’t disappoint, tagging along with visible excitement of her own. He doesn’t have to ask what floorboard Nicky means. Though this is an older tradition, one Andy doesn’t approve of, he knows exactly where to look.

* * *

Nicky’s running the kitchen sink, waiting for it to get hot, when Nile ducks her head back into the room. She gestures towards the windows and says, “I’m gonna take pictures in the woods.” 

“Have fun.” He replies, charmed that she’s checking in, “Be careful, the sun will set soon.” 

Nile looks like she wants to laugh and remind him they’re immortal, but she doesn’t. “I will. You might want to check on Joe.” 

“Is he alright?” 

“He’s…” She pauses, stopping to think about it, and steps fully into the room, “Is this place special to you?” 

“If you found the letters, yes.” Nicky says, shutting the sink off and giving up on doing dishes. “In the sense that it was a site of reunion for us, which may as well make it sacred.” 

“Right.” Nile says, looking a little bowled over. “Okay. Yeah. So I’m just gonna clear out for a while and then I can make dinner when I get back. You should…”

“ _Check on_ Joe?” Nicky asks when she doesn’t continue. He puts a little extra weight into the words, a hint of euphemistic teasing, but shakes his head when she nods seriously. “Thank you Nile, but please don’t let anything keep you out in the cold.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She promises, adjusting her grip on her camera bag, “It’s beautiful out there, but I’ll come back when I lose the light.” 

* * *

Joe is still on the floor when Nicky steps into the doorway. The floorboard and the knife he used to pry it loose are sitting beside him, the letters in his lap a collage of red wax seals and their two distinct styles of handwriting. 

“What are you thinking?” Nicky asks him, coming close enough to touch his temple, to tug at a single curl.

Clearing his throat, Joe picks up the top-most letter and reads, “I’m hungry for you, starving. I picture the twist of your hips in my hands when I close my eyes. I crane my neck towards the sun and hurt with missing you. As I write I am almost home, thinking all the time of a tree I passed two days ago, split down the middle by the weight of the snow. That is how I will feel until I can taste you again.” 

Nicky holds out a hand for him and Joe takes it, letting all the letters fall to the floor. They come together easy as breathing, Nicky’s hand sliding warm around his ribs, Joe tucking his face into his neck. He shifts, hips nudging forward, and Nicky clutches him tighter. 

“Nile?” Joe asks. 

“Taking photographs. She thought you were... overcome.” 

“I _am_.”

Nicky snorts, shifting, teasing, “You’d like to be.” 

“For you, by you, yes.” Joe grumbles, turning to nip at his ear as they continue this little dance, “Always. Including right now.”

“Hmm.” Nicky considers, “What do you want?” 

“More than a taste.”

“We’d better see if there’s hot water then.” 

* * *

There’s hot water. There’s lube too, though Nicky has to jog back out to the car for it. They didn’t pack light this time, he has to disassemble the expert jenga game of bags and boxes in the back to find the one Joe described in between sucking on his tongue. Nicky finds his hands are shaking a little as he unzips it to double-check, anticipatory. He glances both ways to make sure Nile isn’t close by and briefly gives into the temptation to palm himself through his pants, imagining Joe upstairs. His soft groan disappears into the wind. He hurries back, kicking his damp slippers off at the door. 

Somehow even the sight of their closed bedroom door is arousing. He knocks twice and lets himself in, finding it much warmer than when he left, which Nicky is instantly grateful for though he has no idea how Joe managed it. There’s a pile of bedding on the floor, still mostly folded, and Joe himself is spread out on the bed, already naked. He only bothered with the fitted sheet. 

He’s breathing hard, running a hand across his chest. All the long lines of his body, the best thing Nicky’s ever seen, invite his touch. The heat in his eyes reminds Nicky of the last time they joked about burning this house down. He gets it now. He _aches_. The only way he can think to make that clear to Joe is to lock the door behind him and strip fast. 

Joe turns towards him to watch, bites his bottom lip and rubs his thighs together, hungry. Nicky’s tempted to make him laugh, knows exactly how he could wiggle his hips to make that happen, but steps forward with intent instead. 

Or, he means to. Joe says, “Stop.” and Nicky does it without question. 

“Socks off too.” Joe demands, and then, while Nicky’s bent over, “Tell me you found it?”

“Yes.” Nicky says. He didn’t forget, just had other priorities. He turns back to his discarded clothes for the bottle and tosses it toward the bed. Joe catches it with one hand, a tiny show of reflexes that’s incredibly hot, though, just about everything that Joe does naked Nicky finds incredibly hot. Without even thinking about it Nicky finds himself climbing onto the bed and settling between Joe’s legs, arranging him the way he likes, single-minded about getting his mouth on Joe’s skin. 

* * *

It’s not a surprise that Nicky mainly wants Joe to say his name, curse in languages that only they remember, and beg. A different kind of poetry than Joe intended to give him, perhaps, but equally suitable for a reunion. Nicky doesn’t talk much more that night, his mouth is busy and then, when he’s done rendering Joe speechless too, he curls into Joe’s embrace and goes back to sleep. 

That  _ is _ a surprise, albeit an exceedingly welcome one, only because Joe manages coherent thought long enough to remember Nicky said he’d been resting already. The parts of the house he saw on their way to the bedroom suggest they’ll be busy for a few days and Nicky can tackle a to-do list like no one else. He must have had a long journey, must feel the same exhaustion Joe feels down to his bones when he can’t start and end his days with Nicky. Working towards the same goal, fighting the same fight, alongside the man snoring softly in his arms, is the best feeling Joe knows. Parts of himself go dormant, alone. With Nicky beside him, death has always been irrelevant.

He wouldn’t leave the pocket of warmth made by their bodies under a small pile of blankets for anything, but moving forward is the only way he can shake out of this mood, this half-asleep wandering train of thought, this deep unshakeable fear that they won’t leave this world together. The only way, that is, besides Nicky’s reassurance. It’s a look in his eyes, a touch. ‘Have faith, Yusuf.’ Nicky would say, letting those words echo for a moment before shrugging and delivering a joke Joe is convinced only he could land, ‘Or at least have me.’ 

The Nicky in his head fades away with a sly little smile as the Nicky in his arms shifts and says, “Sogna con me.” All the syllables blend into one long mumble, but Joe knows what he’s asking. He lets a kiss to Nicky’s shoulder be his answer. He can worry again in the morning, they have centuries after all. 

* * *

Finally dragging Joe into his lap, staying up on his knees for now but spreading them wider, sitting back and letting the weight of Joe’s thighs settle over his, Nicky thinks with lust-addled certainty that  _ this  _ is the purpose of his immortality. Giving Joe exactly what he wants. Which, at this moment, as he’s demanded several times now, is Nicky’s cock splitting him open. 

They’re both quiet as he lines himself up, breathing slow, Joe consciously relaxing and bearing down on him. The peaceful heat of that moment doesn’t last, but it lingers in Joe’s eyes.

“Did you get bigger?”

“Joe, please.”

“I swear-“

“Don’t. I’ve had the same cock for nearly a millennium, you should be intimately familiar with its size.”

“It  _ feels _ bigger.” 

“Are you trying to insult me or compliment me? I’m honestly not sure.”

“I’m trying to rush you.”

“Yusuf,” Nicky groans, “I  _ know _ you. You don’t want it fast, not now. Neither do I.”

“Can’t-  _ ah _ \- miss dinner.” Joe reminds him, and the way Nicky slides fully  _ in  _ then has him shuddering, “Wait, I know what I want.”

Nicky waits, smirking a little as he leans back further to grab his own ankles. The stretch is nice after a long day in the car, even better is the opportunity to tease Joe and stay like this, buried inside him. 

Only, Joe isn’t rushing him anymore, “Fuck, just like that. Don’t move baby.” He says, slicking his hand with lube and using it to stroke himself. Nicky does move, only a little, nudging his hips forward as if to remind Joe he’s there and not just a toy. “I want to, you remember, like last week-“

“That wasn’t on purpose.” Nicky says, keeping his voice low, eyes glued to the gorgeous sight of Joe’s fingers tightening around his cock. They don’t always come at the same time, even when they try. 

(Last week they were like this, in a sense, Joe dragging him back from the edge over and over until he couldn’t hold  _ himself _ back from finishing, collapsing over Nicky’s back and pushing him down into the puddle he made. Nicky, so out of his mind desperate for it he’d been gasping pleas and blinking back tears, wants to say he came simultaneously at the sound of Joe’s voice in his ear or the sensation of being blanketed by his body, even the hot rush of Joe coming inside him, but in truth it’s nothing more than Joe  _ didn’t fucking stop _ that time, didn’t take his hand away. They were filthy afterward and Nicky’s nerves were so overloaded with pleasure his hands shook an hour later trying to tie the laces on his boots. Joe had been insufferably pleased with himself, taking over the task, whispering ‘best fuck of the year’ and getting ‘it’s January’ back.)

“Hey, still with me?”

“Always.”

“I know what your full attention feels like.” Joe teases, “Daydreaming, my love?”

“You don’t seem to need me.” Nicky shoots back, still keeping his hands to himself but slowly taking in the languid drape of Joe’s body, gaze lingering on where they’re connected and the twisting rhythm of his hand. They don’t play this game often, Nicky prefers having Joe in his mouth to watching from afar, but this is a new take on it. He’s not far at all. 

“Now. Nicky, now. Please-” Joe gestures with one hand, beckoning Nicky closer like it feels too far to him, all of a sudden. 

Nicky shifts forward to kiss him, groaning at the feeling of that hand gripping the back of his neck, fingers digging in. Joe squirms, rolls his hips up into his own grip and bites his lip, but Nicky won’t be rushed now. He drags the first thrust out, and sits back up just as slow, getting a grip on Joe’s thighs. Joe’s still trying to stroke himself but more or less letting Nicky’s thrusts push his cock through his fist. His other hand wraps around Nicky’s wrist, hanging on for the ride. 

Nicky lets go of his control then, desperate to make Joe come like this, all over himself and the nice clean sheets. He only needs one more thing. “Can you open your eyes for me, amore?” 

“No.” Joe groans, but does it. 

“Thank you.” Nicky praises, fucking him harder when Joe squeezes tight to his wrist. 

(He can’t help but remember the first few times they held out long enough for this particular act, how scared he was, how worried it made him when Joe clenched his eyes shut. His doubts then made Nicky hesitant to ask about it, unsure if he really wanted to know why Joe wouldn’t look back at him. Joe caught the tension in Nicky’s body eventually, the fear, and stopped everything until Nicky could explain. This man. Unashamed to admit he gets overwhelmed by taking Nicky’s cock. Warning him he might cry or come early with his eyes open, no ego about it, as if that didn’t make Nicky want it more.)

“Dreaming again.” Joe accuses, amused. There  _ are _ tears in his eyes, but he’s stroking himself in time with Nicky’s steady thrusts, visibly appreciating the pink flush Nicky can feel spreading down his chest from the exertion. “I  _ ah _ \- I told you, this house is magic. Full of good memories.”

“Why,” Nicky groans, redoubling his efforts to fuck Joe’s cock into his own fist, “are you still trying to argue?”

Joe shakes with breathless laughter, “Got you to go harder, didn’t I?”

Nicky doesn’t dispute that. He lets Joe feel his full attention, his commitment to their mutual pleasure, scrapes his nails down Joe’s thighs and revels in their strength, fucks him and fucks him. 

When Joe makes a strangled noise and lets go of himself to grab Nicky’s other wrist, Nicky doesn’t falter. “No, no, I’m almost- do you still want-?”

“Yes. Please. Fuck, Nicky, you’re perfect.” Joe groans, head falling back. He replaces his hand, reaching up to twist his nipple with the other. Nicky feels the loss of his grip, the heat of his palms around both wrists, shudder through him like Joe was keeping him grounded and now he’s floating away. 

They manage it, exactly what Joe asked for. As soon as Nicky’s hands clench around Joe’s thighs and he feels himself start to come, Joe meets his choked off  _ ah!  _ with a loan groan. They move through it together, this little death, every thrust has Joe shooting off messily all the way up into his chest hair and over his shoulder. He’ll whine about that in a moment, but Nicky’s mouth is lax taking in the picture he makes now. He’s not sure whose heartbeat he’s feeling in his whole body, not sure if Joe is clenching around him, wringing him dry, on purpose. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. 

At some point Joe closed his eyes again. He blinks them back open almost sleepily, focusing hungrily on Nicky’s mouth. Nicky shifts forward to kiss him before he can ask for it out loud.

* * *

“You guys know you’re not subtle, right?” Nile asks, as they’re sitting around the table after dinner. Nicky’s sipping coffee while she and Joe share a rich chocolate cake with a molten center. They exchange a glance, mutual confusion and amusement, and look back at her expectantly. “I mean… you bought the woods too, right?”

“Yepp.” Joe grins, popping the end of the word like bubblegum, leaning back in his chair. 

“Perfect isolated training ground.” Nile surmises. She’d been out there long enough taking pictures to know, turning back only after capturing the sun setting over the lake. “You brought me here for immortal boot camp, huh?”

Now they’re both smiling, though Nicky’s expression is fairly sheepish overall. Apparently she wasn’t meant to figure that out so quickly. For a moment Nile tries imagining what Andy put them through when they first met, some kind of well-intended violence probably, surprise attacks in the middle of the night. 

“We wanted to train you in whatever weapons you don’t already know.” Joe explains, nodding for Nicky to continue so he can go back to eating his half of the cake. 

“We thought you could teach us some things too, with technology or the tactics you learned in your boot camp. It’s been a while since we enlisted in that kind of organization.” Nicky says. She appreciates that vote of confidence, the trust they have in her. Not once since Merrick’s has she felt like she didn’t belong but it’s nice to have this kind of concrete reminder that they think she’s one of them too. 

“So… not any kind of desensitization to death or whatever, right?” Nile checks. Andy had been so sure that it wasn’t a risk for her, being so new, and they all seem to shake it off much faster than she does. For all she knows they’ve made a habit of running headlong into danger, all the better for coming back faster the next time. 

Nicky pulls a ghastly face, shaking his head just as Joe does, “No, Nile, definitely not. It will never be our intention to cause you harm.”

“Okay grandpa, don’t be dramatic.” Nile grins, already coming to appreciate the way Nicky talks sometimes, a little like he’s giving a sermon, like he just gave one but knows nobody was listening so he’s repeating the lesson again. “Just… tell me this place has wifi?”

“It doesn’t even have  a functional bannister right now.” Joe says, waving his spoon around, “We can go back into town tomorrow if you like.”

“Unless we’re snowed in.” Nicky amends, nodding to the windows. The woods, dark and deep, are the perfect backdrop to show how hard it’s coming down now. Wouldn’t be the first time this house was their shelter from a storm. At least this time they don’t have to worry about horses. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one is vibes only, can't explain it, just really wanted to post... something. Title/inspiration from Robert Frost's ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’, more inspiration from the song Crane Your Neck by Lady Lamb which is so good this basically became songfic.
> 
> Thanks to pines, Gati, prosey, and Viola for reading it over, double thanks to Viola for the translation work, secret thanks to kris for you know what. ❤️ Love you very many.


End file.
